


Uneasy Truce

by melanie1982



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Do-Over, Feelings, Multi, itcantendlikethat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: I know, I know, I'm several years behind and hopelessly uncool, but I *just* read the Hunger Games trilogy (all three books read over the last eight days).I'm having some feelings about how things ended. I understand why the author killed off certain people, and I understand (to a point) why Katniss ended up with the man she ended up with, but.. I just.. I mean.. ugh.Also, there isn't enough polyamory in mainstream fiction. Actually, there isn't much of it in smut-lit, either, but..Ahem.Obviously, Suzanne Collins has sold bajillions of books, and I have published/sold exactly zero. Perhaps I shouldn't 'correct' aspects of her work in a fanfic. Perhaps I should simply accept the hand which has been dealt. Perhaps I should sleep rather than type fanfiction, since I've been up for almost an entire day now. Or perhaps that's the sort of defeatist attitude the Capitol *wants* me to adopt..This is going to change a lot of the events from Mockingjay. Still plenty of death, but not as sad as the original work. And things may (will) get weird....





	1. All Life Begins In Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate, hate, hated that Finnick was killed off.
> 
> So, here I am, fixing things, ha ha

Katniss found him emerging from the lake deep within the woods - *her* woods. The new regime had been in power for only a matter of weeks, although some days it was a struggle to recall a time when President Snow had claimed to be in control. Other times, Katniss could scarcely believe that the dark days had ever come to an end. Her senses on high alert for game, bow drawn, it was a wonder the man hadn't been shot through. Initially, she told herself it was an illusion, an after-effect of countless head injuries and other traumas, or perhaps a final, delayed incident of torture from enemies long-dead. Could it truly be him, here, alive?

The trident, held at his side, was emitting a steady beep, like an alarm clock whose battery was running down. Katniss watched him waver, then fall to his knees as if in supplication. Lowering her weapon, she ran to him, her footfalls silent upon the pliant blanket of leaves.

"Finnick?!" She fought down the panic in her voice, hoping her eyes weren't deceiving her, yet wary of what awful nightmares might yet unfold. If he had survived the mutts, only to die before her now, it would be more than Katniss could bear. He was dazed, gaunt, and probably wounded - and that was only an optimistic guess on her part.

He seemed solid enough, not a hologram, and his flesh, though cool, gave under the pressure of her fingertips in a convincingly human manner. Sea-green eyes swam across her face, trying to focus. Katniss tried his name again, willing the sound to spark some life into him, some semblance of reason.

"Finnick." It was not a question, but a command.

"Katniss?"

He knew her, then, and she began to check his body for injuries, tracking devices, any sign of trouble. 

As if reading her mind, he struggled to give an explanation, answering questions she had not yet formed.

"The others.. managed to shield me long enough from the mutts. The scent of their death masked me. I had to lay low, trapped between their bodies; I couldn't.. couldn't catch up.."

Katniss smiled, hoping it was pleasant and reassuring to look upon. "You did well, Finnick. The others would've wanted you to survive, no matter what it took."

She pulled her flagon from her hip, urging him to drink. The water seemed to reanimate him somewhat, and he sat upright.

"At first, I waited to die from the loss of blood, but the wounds congealed, like the tar. You remember the tar?"

Katniss nodded, holding her tongue. She wanted to hear the rest of his escape, wanted to scream into the trees with happiness and triumph at his survival, wanted to sing -

"I figured infection would take me out. I did get some oozing, but the fever never came. I followed the ruins of the tunnels, getting lost, finding dead ends where it had caved in.."

Katniss began to wonder how Finnick's dangerous journey had impacted his already-fragile mental state. His eyes kept wandering, and he'd trail off mid-thought, much like his wife.

His wife!

"Finnick, you're here now. You found your way back to us, and you're a hero! Annie's going to be so happy to see you, what with the baby coming - "

She covered her mouth with her hand. Perhaps that was an announcement better shared by his wife, but it was too late now. Her impulsiveness had gotten the best of her yet again.

"Baby?"

Finnick's face was radiant, though still leaner and older than Katniss remembered it. 

Katniss helped him to his feet. "Yes, Finnick. Let's get you home to District 13. Can you walk?," she inquired.

He stumbled forward, eventually accepting her shoulder to lean on. In this case, his diminished weight was an advantage. In her mind, Katniss replayed his valiant efforts to transport both Peeta and Mags through the jungle and along the beach. Mags had given up her life - for her, for Peeta, and yes, for Finnick. This didn't make up for the deaths of the others, Katniss knew, but to be able to bring Finnick home alive, like a phoenix risen from the ashes, was a balm upon her charred conscience.

"The lake.. yours?," he asked.

Katniss nodded. "I never thought I'd see it again, Finnick, just as I never thought I'd see you again." She omitted the part about the nightmares in which she was searching the tunnels endlessly, calling out his name. The others, she always found - dead, bloated, in pieces. Finnick had never made an appearance; now she knew why.

Sensing his next question, Katniss headed him off. "We're free. Truly. It's a new beginning for Panem. I think.. I think it's going to last this time." She felt new hope rising within her.

Back in District 13, as the celebrations were winding down, Katniss asked her friend what he planned to do now in this peaceful new world.

Looking at Annie, one hand on her belly, the other hand still toying with his trident, he smiled. "Kill nothing but fish."


	2. And Proper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my least favorite aspects of the Mockingjay novel was Prim's death. Prim, who never screwed anyone over or pretended to love someone she didn't love, who just wanted her ugly cat and her mom and to heal people. 
> 
> Fixing it. Tada!

Katniss blamed the morphling, or lack of dreamless sleep, even the brain damage undoubtedly caused by the blast. Her eyes searched Haymitch's face, then Gale's, finally scanning Peeta's. All were kind, soft, open, which was more than she could say about her own.

"How can this be true? How can what you're telling me be real? I saw it happen! I saw with my own eyes!" As if in anguish over her eyes' betrayal, Katniss covered her them with her hands, pressing hard against the lids until she saw pinpricks of light. Sparks. Not wanting to see anything resembling explosions, Katniss uncovered her face once more.

Her mother entered the room, dressed in the uniform of the hospital staff. "It's alright." Pause. "She's recovering. The wounds were deep, but she'll survive."

Prim. 

Haymitch, alarmingly sober, steadied Katniss' hands by sandwiching them between his own. "Plutarch ferreted out the information. Do you remember the jabberjays from the second visit to the arena?"

Katniss glowered at him. He took that as a yes.

"Snow had to scramble to come up with something to break you. You'd survived explosions, starvation, being shot; you'd outwitted opponents, both man and beast. He knew from the way you responded to your sister's voice in the arena. The operation was nicknamed Project Proper, in reference to - "

"In reference to Prim." Katniss could not admire the dead man's play on words. She had to brace herself for whatever came next.

"Quite so. Operation Proper saw the engineering of decoys, all devised to affect the voice, mannerisms and appearance of Prim. Snow's hope was that the likeness of her would lure you into mortal danger, or that, even if you survived the final battle, your grief at her loss would lead you to take your own life."

So the worst thing she'd ever witnessed was, in fact, a lie. She'd been tricked again. More than Gale, Peeta, or her own life, Prim had motivated Katniss to press on. She had volunteered to save her sister's life in the reaping, and President Snow had relied upon Katniss' drive to protect the girl at any cost - including failing in the revolt if need be. Each victor of the Games had a weakness, and that weakness had been exploited at the cost of countless lives.

"When can I see her?," Katniss asked, hoping the desperation in her voice didn't frighten them as it frightened her.

Haymitch reassured her. "She'll be here shortly. We thought it best to prepare you first; had she simply walked in, it might've been too much of a shock."

Katniss could only imagine the scene: her body shutting down, her mind breaking, or worst of all, her hands reaching for a weapon to take down what could obviously only be a trap.

A thought occurred to her then. "The other Propers? Have they been..?"

Gale jumped in. "Completely and thoroughly eliminated," he informed her.

"Good. That's... Thank you."

Peeta leaned closer. "One less face in your nightmares?"

She nodded, grateful, so grateful. The burns, the concussions, the possibility of dying from infection - none of it mattered now. Prim was safe. Panem was free. Her friends would take care of her mother and sister, come what may.

Katniss let out a long, slow breath before closing her eyes.

For the first time since her first Hunger Games, no deaths marred her dreams.


	3. Either/Or

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why choose one or the other, when you can have both?
> 
> In this chapter, Prim never died, meaning Katniss never cut Gale out of her life. They sort of.. drifted apart for a while, but nothing definitive was said or done.
> 
> Sexy times are implied but not described in detail.

It wasn't easy.

You'd think, after surviving the Games twice, and after defeating Snow's regime in bloody battles, this would be child's play.

You'd be wrong.

Katniss had set up her own private quarters there in the woods of District 12. Everything was to her liking: the fresh air; the solitude; the absence of politics or emotions or memories she'd never wanted. 

Slowly, though, Peeta had begun to creep back in - first into her thoughts, then into her life. Her home became 'their' home, and although Katniss tried to pretend it was because she owed him something, or because he had no family left, she eventually had to concede that, well, it was sort of *nice* having him around.

Things had hummed along, one day blending seamlessly into the next like an unbroken length of thread traveling through a sewing machine, until suddenly there was a kink in the fabric. The machine whirred in protest, then fell silent and idle.

Gale had returned to the woods.

Senses on high alert, Katniss watched as the two met in the grass, weapons down by their sides. Peeta still wasn't a great shot, but Katniss had trained him well enough to hit a stationary target at close range; this could get bloody.

The two men - for they were no longer boys in any way - regarded one another. Subdued words were exchanged, but the wind carried them away from her. It wasn't until the old rivals had shaken hands in truce that Katniss realized she had been holding her breath. 

Still wary in case of a sudden shift in mood, Katniss approached. By the time she reached the ground where they stood, Peeta's good-natured laughter was spilling out into the sunshine. The pair turned to face her at the same instant, delighting in her confusion.

The trio spent the remains of the day catching up, Peeta graciously feeding them all. Katniss tried to make conversation, but it seemed that the two suitors were doing most of the communicating. There was a distinct sense of being left out of the loop, and it nettled her - so much so that she went to bed earlier than planned.

Gale was gone by morning, but he found his way back time and again. Each time, it was as though he'd never left. That wasn't quite right; it was as if the three of them had always lived like this, looking out for one another, getting along. Where was the rivalry? Where were the attempts to woo her? Even in the months since Peeta had moved in, she'd never.. Well, they each had their own room, and that was that. Gale was now making himself at home in the sitting room, his few belongings taking up little space, yet still conveying an alarming threat of permanency. What, exactly, was happening to her carefully-ordered life in the woods?

The days grew warmer; the evenings, longer. Bathing in the lake where Katniss had played as a child became a welcome respite from the heat. It seemed so natural for all of them to bathe together - they'd each seen their fair share of nudity, after all, and none of them had salvaged any false modesty from their pre-Games lives. It wasn't until Katniss felt the warm, damp hand tugging at her braid, tilting her head back for a kiss, followed by another kiss from another pair of lips, that she began to see the snare the two of them had so carefully set.

If you'd asked her later, whose kiss had claimed her first, Katniss wouldn't have been certain. Each mouth tasted like Peeta's cheese buns; each pair of hands was calloused with use. Each warm body pressed close to hers felt like safety, with just the right amount of risk to keep things interesting.

That was as far as things went at the lake that night - trading off kisses until she felt faint. 

The walk home was silent, but not from shame. The air hummed with promise, and Katniss knew, looking from one friend to the other, that neither of them would force her, or ply with flattery. Neither would wheedle or beg. The power was hers, and hers alone.

Perhaps that was what did it - the knowledge that she, Katniss Everdeen, was held in equal affection by both of these men, each of them ready to step aside for the other, or to leave in tandem, should she wish it. Each man loved her; each had risked his life time and again to protect her and all she held dear. Their surrender to her will led her to yield, so that, at the threshold of the house in the woods, far from the eyes of anyone who would care, Katniss invited them both into her private room.

This was not the way of Panem. This was not the way of any living person Katniss had ever met, nor of any dead person studied in school. It should have been shocking, embarrassing, degrading -

And yet, it wasn't.

Morning brought no hint of reproach from anyone party to the night before. Her lovers - her LOVERS!, Katniss realized with a start - had left her to sleep in. Upon dressing and entering the dining area, she found that Gale had produced a rabbit stew, while Peeta had made the little cakes she loved best. For the first time in ages, Katniss felt her face relax into a natural smile.

Gale had told Peeta that Katniss would choose whichever one of them she felt she needed in order to survive. He'd been on the right track, but had missed the mark. 

This was the new world order, where survival was easier. This.. arrangement was not born of necessity, but of choice. Now, unlike at any other time, Katniss was free to choose her path, and, while nothing is ever certain until we're dead, she felt that this unexpected possibility held the greatest chance of bringing her happiness.

She took to calling their menage a trois "the uneasy truce," but not for fear that the two men would fight over her.

No.

The uneasy truce was within Katniss herself, between her fierce need for independence and the soft callings of her heart.

\- End


End file.
